


Seven Minutes In Heaven

by SlimReaper



Series: Fics by iopele [9]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Closet Sex, I'm sure Perceptor had a very sciencey reason for all of this, Leg Humping, M/M, Making Out, Other, Sex Pollen, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, Well that escalated quickly, iopele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper
Summary: alternately: Whoops, Perceptor Invented Sex Pollenand: Yikes, Perceptor Spilled the Sex Pollenalso: Dammit, Ratchet Inhaled the Sex Pollenin conclusion: Is That a Broom in Your Closet Or Are You Just Happy To See Me





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schandbringer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Schandbringer).



> For the fantastic Schandbringer! Thanks!

There was probably something… _questionable_ about all of this, but it was difficult to care about what it might be. Something that said _this isn’t what you came here to do, was it?_ A memory file arose in the back of his processor, niggling for Ratchet’s attention, and difficult as it was, he tried to concentrate on it.

He got as far as recognizing the brief glimpse of recent events-- _rushing to respond to the alarm from the lab, the sight of a flashing red warning light, illuminating the mist filling the space--_ but before he got further than that, Perceptor found _that spot_ on his throat, and Ratchet lost his focus in a surge of heat and charge. He dropped his helm back with a deep groan, giving the scientist-turned-sniper-turned-scientist-again greater access.

Then he realized that his hands were no longer reporting the pleasurable sensations they had been. They’d gone still scant inches away from the larger mech’s aft, and that destination was entirely too tempting to resist. Ratchet caressed downward to close the distance and groaned at the delicious feedback from his hands, thoroughly appreciating the lushness of smooth waxed metal beneath his sensitive fingertips.

Perceptor moaned against his throat an instant before claiming Ratchet’s mouth in a deep kiss and Ratchet officially decided he did not give a _damn_ how he’d gotten into this particular situation. This was _Perceptor,_ he’d known him for ages, he _trusted_ him, and more importantly, he was running just as hot as Ratchet and every single thing he did made Ratchet feel _amazing._ He opened to the kiss, met Perceptor’s glossa with his own, and willingly let himself drown in sensation.

 _One thing about making out with a scientist,_ Ratchet thought in a daze as the kiss spun on and on _, was that every single reaction was noted and given further study._ Perceptor suckled his lip and Ratchet gasped, which prompted Perceptor to devote long minutes to fully exploring his lip to find out exactly where he was most sensitive. When a caress to his side provoked a long, low moan, it led the scientist to thoroughly investigate each and every transformation seam to locate every last sensor node in the area.

By the time Perceptor broke the kiss, Ratchet’s fans were roaring and he was having considerable difficulty keeping his panel from retracting.

Ratchet pressed his hips against Perceptor’s, and found himself lifted completely off the ground so that he could wrap his legs fully around the scientist’s waist. “ _Percy,_ ” he cried, shamelessly grinding his panel against Perceptor’s.

“Easy, easy,” Perceptor purred, and it wasn’t _fair_ how controlled he sounded when Ratchet was going up in flames. He squeezed Ratchet’s thighs and bit the border of his windshield, and Ratchet cried out again, almost ridiculously revved up not only by the bite but also by the ease with which Perceptor held him. “Shh, someone will come in,” Perceptor shushed him, but Ratchet was having none of it.

“Let them, I don’t care, oh _frag!”_

That last was in response to Perceptor rocking their hips together as he started walking. Ratchet didn’t much care where he was headed--he didn’t much care about anything except the charge blazing through his lines, the heat of Perceptor’s panel burning against his, the fine tremors he felt in the other mech that showed that he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he seemed. Right now Ratchet had one priority and one priority only--the overload beckoning just out of reach, one that promised to reset his processor with its intensity.

“Gotta move,” Perceptor groaned as he walked, the friction of their panels clearly getting to him too. Ratchet suckled at his throat for the thrill of feeling the vibration of his vocalizer against his lips. Perceptor swallowed hard and managed to speak again, although now he didn’t sound quite so collected. “Need somewhere… to go somewhere… we don’t want interruptions…”

That sounded just _fine_ to Ratchet, and he held on tighter and let Perceptor get on with finding a destination. In the meantime, that scope had captured his attention, and Ratchet was in the mood to do a little research study of his own.

Caressing the curved shaft didn’t gain much of a reaction, but Perceptor stumbled when Ratchet exvented a warm breath on the glass lens. Ratchet hummed in satisfaction--that was some promising data right there. He smiled and nuzzled the protective metal rim around the glass, and that provoked an interesting reaction indeed--a particularly breathless curse and Perceptor’s hands tightening on his thighs as his walking pace sped up considerably. Ratchet nibbled at the sensitive metal, thrilled to Perceptor’s deep, gutteral curse, and then had to hold onto the scientist’s shoulders very tightly as he was nearly shoved through a door into darkness.

The door slammed behind them and in the next instant, Perceptor pushed him up against the back wall, shoved his knee between Ratchet’s thighs, and kissed him hard as he pressed his thigh against Ratchet’s panel.

Ratchet moaned into the kiss and ground down on his thigh, losing himself in sensation almost instantly. It felt so _good,_ the way Perceptor gripped his hips to guide him, the little ridge at the edge of his thigh hitting his panel _just right,_ and this kiss that was stealing the air from his vents and he didn’t even mind if he suffocated as long as Perceptor just _didn’t stop._

But Ratchet wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t remember his partner, and he reached down, sliding one hand along the curve of Perceptor’s thigh until he could cup the scientist’s panel.

And _squeezed._

Perceptor muffled his shout by biting Ratchet’s neck. Oh, that was going to leave a mark and Ratchet didn’t care, not as long as he could leave one of his own. He nipped the edge of his scope again, just hard enough to leave a little silver scratch this time, and Perceptor’s panel snapped open beneath his hand. Ratchet cupped this new territory and felt Perceptor’s valve cover spiral open beneath his palm.

Never one to refuse such a lovely offer, Ratchet circled the heated rim with two fingers for a moment just to savor the way the scientist shuddered before pushing them into his dripping wet valve.

Perceptor clenched on his fingers and Ratchet was abruptly glad that Perceptor was pinning him against the wall like this because his knees gave out at the surge of sensory feedback lighting up the packed data pathways of his fingers. He whimpered and gave up on teasing Perceptor’s scope--couldn’t give it the attention it deserved--and focused instead on circling Perceptor’s anterior node with his thumb while pumping his fingers in and out of that beautifully tight valve, both of them moaning shamelessly.

And all the while, Perceptor’s hands gripped his aft and rocked him against his thigh, guiding Ratchet in a rhythm that promised to push him over the edge in seconds.

He was nearly there when the door cracked open and a shaft of light momentarily blinded him. “I found them, they’re--they’re… um... “ The voice faltered as the light brightened, illuminating exactly what they were doing in this little closet. “... whoa.”

Another voice spoke up as the door was firmly closed, enclosing them in darkness again. “The gas has been vented, it’s safe to come out when… the _effects_ have worn off,” the new mech said loudly enough for their voice to carry through the closed door. More voices answered, moving away now, and that was good enough for Ratchet.

Perceptor still seemed a bit distracted by the interruption, though, so Ratchet helped him regain his focus by rubbing his fingertips along the lining of his valve, seeking out nodes and swirling caresses over them.

It worked beautifully. Perceptor’s hips reflexively snapped forward, shifting Ratchet atop his thigh, and just that quickly the medic’s charge surged back to life. He moaned and rocked harder, fingering Perceptor in time with his movements, seeking the overload he’d been denied.

“My… my experiment…” Perceptor said breathlessly, turning to look at the door even though his calipers quivered around Ratchet’s fingers with impending overload. “I, I should… I should…”

Ratchet gripped his chin and pulled him back to face him. “You should overload so hard that the entire deck hears you scream my name,” he growled, scissoring his fingers and savoring how Perceptor cried out. “And then you should get me off so hard that I scream yours. If you’re so desperate for an experiment, you can compare data on who was louder, how’s that sound?”

Perceptor shivered from helm to footplate and then kissed Ratchet hard and deep. “The best experiments require repeated testing,” he murmured against the medic’s mouth. “Perhaps you should clear your schedule for the afternoon.”

**Author's Note:**

> and [here's the gorgeous art](http://schandbringer.tumblr.com/post/154187047022/so-youre-looking-for-a-good-place-to-store-your) that inspired it all!


End file.
